I Hate You
by Nationless
Summary: The Revolutionary War has just ended. England can't bear to look into the eyes of the person who betrayed him, but America won't have that. When blue meets green, three fateful words will be spoken. These words can never be taken back.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya.

~X~

It wasn't fair. That's what kept running through Arthur's head as rain continued to pound down on him.

Arthur was drenched to the bone; his red coat heavy on his shoulders, and his once-pristine white pants stained with mud. He didn't feel the cold, however. His mind was much more focused on the pain of this betrayal.

After all this time, how could he? How could his brother hurt him like this? Arthur had bared his heart and soul to Alfred. He had given up everything he could for him, and this was his repayment?

Tears trickled down his face, masked by the heavy rainfall. What he couldn't hide was the sobs wracking through his body. He knew that his brother was in front of him, watching. This knowledge wasn't enough to force Arthur to regain his famous composure.

"What happened?" the American asked.

Arthur flinched from the cold tone of his voice. It was too un-Alfred. It sounded nothing like the carefree boy he had raised.

"I remember when you were great," he scoffed.

Arthur's sobs intensified. It was true. The great British Empire he used to be was fading. He lost his strength the moment he realized he cared about Alfred F. Jones.

The sound of wet footsteps advanced; yet Arthur still didn't raise his head. He couldn't face whatever disgust he was sure was written across his ex-colony's face.

"Look at me, England," he demanded. "I want to see you. I want you to see me. Not as your 'little brother', but as your equal."

He didn't comply. Strong hands grasped the Brit's chin, forcing his gaze to meet Alfred's.

It wasn't even remotely what Arthur had been expecting. It wasn't a cold, cruel, uncaring face he saw. His blue eyes were set with a certain determination, but it wasn't callous.

A sad smile turned Alfred's lips. "I'm really sorry," he said. "But I needed my freedom. You understand, right?"

"I hate you," the redcoat whispered. "Don't ever touch me again."

It was a complete lie. It didn't matter how much Alfred hurt him; he could never hate the American that he raised. But, he wasn't going to let anything like this happen again. An open heart obviously equaled inevitable heartbreak.

The blatant shock that crossed sky-blue eyes nearly made Arthur take it back.

Less than three seconds later, he was shoved face-down in the mud. "Then never come back to my country again," Alfred snapped back.

Somehow, the Brit found the strength to stand. He wiped the dirt from his eyes, but made no move for retaliation. Wordlessly, he turned around and walked away. Tears still fell from his eyes, but Alfred didn't need to know that.

It wasn't like the American cared anyways.

~X~

**Author's Note:** I always need more Revolutionary angst in my life. Maybe you guys do too? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my little drabble. Thanks for reading


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Ok, I know this was supposed to be a one-shot, but… I needed a break from writing angst. Which led to me writing more of it ^^; This will likely remain a two-shot, but you'll find I'm really easily persuadable when it comes to continuing things.

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

It took nearly a century before Alfred could actually look his former caretaker in the eye again. It was his pride that prevented him from making the trip to London any sooner. But the second he saw the Brit, he wished that he never came.

If anyone who didn't know Arthur were to see him, they would likely think nothing was wrong. His head was held as high as ever, emerald eyes as cold and defiant as ever. Every button was done, and each crease in his suit was in perfect order.

But Alfred could see otherwise. The dark circles that seemed etched beneath his eyes, the way that the skin stretched almost painfully over the fine bones of his face. Though the suit looked tailored, it still seemed too large for the man.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if his cheekbones were as sharp as they looked under the harsh noonday sun. He was curious if the skin was always that translucent, or if that was a recent development.

It very nearly broke his heart, just like their last encounter.

The instant that Arthur saw him, his gaze turned glacial.

"What do you want, Yankee?" he asked. Each word was precise, clipped into harshness Alfred never associated with him.

Reflexively, Alfred glared back. "Visiting an old friend," he answered.

A hint of confusion swept across his face before his expression was forced into frigid neutrality. "Then why are you here?"

Alfred took a deep breath. There was no need to ruin this. "I just told you. I'm visiting an old friend. How have you been?"

"Get out of my country," Arthur seethed. "I respected your wish to stay away; do the same for me."

Almost thoughtlessly, he reached out to touch Arthur's sleeve. "Britain…"

He snatched his arm away, still scowling at the younger blond. "Haven't you caused enough damage?"

"I just wanted to apologize again," he mumbled, fidgeting uncomfortably under emerald eyes.

"I don't accept. Now leave." He turned away, ready to walk away.

Sudden memories flashed by the American. The sheer number of times that Arthur had walked away from him. Not only as he was growing up, but most prevalently the last time, in the rain. He felt his throat tighten at the thought.

All those times, he had been unable to stop him. As much as he had wanted to, Alfred never managed to convince him not to leave.

This time, he was determined to make things different.

Without thinking, he took several steps forward and wrapped one of his hands around the other's bony wrist.

Automatically, Arthur tried to jerk away. "What did I tell you?! Leave me alone, America!"

"No," he managed to say. His voice was rough, constricted. "No, I won't let you."

Surprisingly, the Brit stopped struggling. His shoulders slumped, defeated. "I hate you," he whispered, just as he had before.

This time, Alfred didn't retaliate. "I know," he said instead. "But I'm not letting you go this time. Arthur, just… please don't walk away. Not again."

"I don't want to see you ever again," Arthur continued, likely blocking out the American's words. "I never want to hear your voice. I just want you to disappear. Is that really so difficult?"

Alfred could only imaging the look on Arthur's face at that moment. The only way he managed to convince himself to not let go was the wavering in his voice. It was the last bit of hope he was clinging to.

"I won't speak if you tell me you'll stay," he said, hoping to persuade him with words like Arthur used to do to him. "I'll always stand behind you so you don't have to look at me. But only if you tell me why you see us this way. Arthur, please."

He could see the fine tremors working their way through his former caretaker's frame, and worry kicked in. Arthur was crying; he could tell.

"Let go of me," he said, the tears barely audible in his voice. "And leave my country forever."

Alfred sighed shakily. That was it. He had tried.

"Fine," he said, releasing Arthur's wrist. "But before I go, I need you to do me a favor."

The Brit wiped his eyes before turning to face the American without a word.

Determination was set in his sky-toned eyes. "I want you to watch me as I leave," he said. "I want you to know what it's like to watch someone walk away from you."

Green eyes widened, and before Arthur could formulate a response, the young nation turned around, and disappeared into the crowds of London.

As he walked away, and it may have been wishful thinking on his part, Alfred thought he heard the faint whispers of 'Please stay' from the proud Arthur Kirkland.


End file.
